F 

788 
H48 
1893 


HIGGINS 
GRAND  CANON 


BANCROFT 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


BeT**r>ft  Library 


OFXH& 


DRBDO  RIVER 


•ARIZONA 


GKAND   CANON 


COLOEADO  BIVEK, 


ARIZONA. 


C.  A.  HIGGINS. 


WITH  ORIGINAL,  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THOMAS  MORAN,  H.  F.  FAHNY  AND 
F.  H.  L.UNOREN. 


PASSENGER    DEPARTMENT    SANTA    FK    ROUTE. 

CHICAGO,  1893. 


THE  HENRY  O.  SHEPARD  COMPANY, 

PRINTERS  AND  BOOKBINDERS, 
212-214  MONROE  STREET,  CHICAGO. 


THE  Colorado  is  one  of  the  great  rivers  of  North  America.    Formed  in  southern  Utah  by 
the  confluence  of  the  Green  and  Grand,  it  intersects  the  northwestern  corner  of  Ariz  na,  and, 

becoming  the  eastern  boundary  of  Nevada  and  California,  flows  southward  until  it  roaches 
tidewater  in  the  Gulf  of  California,  Mexico.  It  drains  a  territory  of  300,000  square  miles,  and, 
traced  back  to  the  rise  of  its  principal  source,  is  2,000  miles  long.  At  two  points,  The  Needles 
and  Yuma,  on  the  California  boundary,  it  is  crossed  by  a  railroad.  Elsewhere  its  course  lies 
far  from  Caucasian  settlements  and  far  from  the  routes  of  common  travel,  in  the  heart  of  a 
vast  region  fenced  on  the  one  hand  by  arid  plains  and  on  the  other  by  formidable  mountains. 
The  early  Spanish  explorers  first  reported  it  to  the  civilized  world  in  1540,  two  separate 
expeditions  becoming  acquainted  with  the  river  for  a  comparatively  short  distance  alx>ve  its 
mouth,  and  another,  journeying  from  the  Moqui  Pueblos  northwestward  across  the  desert, 
obtaining  the  first  view  of  the  Big  Canon,  failing  in  every  effort  to  descend  the  canon  wall, 
and  seeing  the  river  only  from  afar.  Again,  in  1776,  a  Spanish  priest  traveling  southward 
through  Utah  struck  off  from  the  Virgen  River  to  the  southeast  and  found  a  practicable 
crossing  at  a  point  that  still  bears  the  name  "  Vado  de  los  Padres."  For  more  than  eighty 
years  thereafter  the  Big  Canon  remained  unvisited,  except  by  the  Indian,  the  Mormon  herds- 
man and  the  trapper,  although  the  Sitgreaves  expedition  of  1851,  journeying  westward,  struck 
the  Colorado  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  above  Yuma,  and  Lieutenant  Whipple  in 
1854  made  a  survey  for  a  practicable  railroad  route  along  the  thirty-fifth  parallel,  where  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  Railroad  has  since  been  constructed.  The  establishment  of  military  posts 
in  New  Mexico  and  Utah  having  made  desirable  the  use  of  a  water-way  for  the  cheap  trans- 
portation of  supplies,  in  1857  the  War  Department  dispatched  an  expedition  in  charge  of 
Lieutenant  Ives  to  explore  the  Colorado  as  far  from  its  mouth  as  navigation  should  be  found 
practicable.  Ives  amended  the  river  in  a  specially  constructed  steamboat  to  the  head  of  Black 
Canon,  a  few  miles  below  the  confluence  of  the  Virgen  River  in  Nevada,  where  further  navi- 
gation became  impossible ;  then,  returning  to  The  Needles,  he  set  off  across  the  country  toward 
the  northeast.  He  reached  the  Big  Canon  at  Diamond  Creek  and  at  Cataract  Creek  in  the 
spring  of  1858,  and  from  the  latter  point  made  a  wide  southward  detour  around  the  San 
Francisco  peaks,  thence  northeastward  to  the  Moqui  Pueblos,  thence  eastward  to  Fort  Defiance 
and  so  back  to  civilization. 

That  is  the  history  of  the  explorations  of  the  Colorado  up  to  twenty-five  years  ago.  Ita 
exact  course  was  unknown  for  many  hundred  miles,  even  its  origin  in  the  junction  of  the 
Grand  and  Green  Rivers  being  a  matter  of  conjecture,  it  being  difficult  to  approach  within  a 
distance  of  two  or  three  miles  from  the  channel,  while  descent  to  the  river's  edge  could  be 
hazarded  only  at  wide  intervals,  inasmuch  as  it  lay  in  an  appalling  fissure  at  the  foot  of 
seemingly  impassable  cliff  terraces  that  led  down  from  the  bordering  plateau ;  and  an  attempt 
at  its  navigation  would  have  been  courting  death.  It  was  known  in  a  general  way  that  the 


entire  channel  between  Nevada  and  Utah  was  of  the  same  titanic  character,  reaching  its 
culmination  nearly  midway  in  its  course  through  Arizona.  In  1869  Maj.  J.  W.  Powell,  now  in 
charge  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey,  undertook  the  exploration  of  the  river  with 
nine  men  and  four  boats,  starting  from  Green  River  City,  on  the  Green  Eiver,  in  Utah.  The 
enterprise  met  with  the  most  urgent  remonstrance  from  those  who  were  best  acquainted  with 
the  region,  including  the  Indians,  who  maintained  that  boats  could  not  possibly  live  in  any 
one  of  a  score  of  rapids  and  falls  known  to  them,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vast  unknown 
stretches  in  which  at  any  moment  a  Niagara  might  be  disclosed.  It  was  also  currently 
believed  that  for  hundreds  of  miles  the  river  disappeared  wholly  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  Powell  launched  his  flotilla  on  May  24,  and  on  August  30  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Virgen  River,  more  than  one  thousand  miles  by  the  river  channel  from  the  place  of  starting, 
minus  two  boats  and  four  men.  One  of  the  men  had  left  the  expedition  by  way  of  an  Indian 
reservation  agency  before  reaching  Arizona,  and  three,  after  holding  out  against  unprecedented 
terrors  for  many  weeks,  had  finally  become  daunted,  choosing  to  encounter  the  perils  of  an 
unknown  desert  rather  than  to  brave  any  longer  the  frightful  menaces  of  that  Stygian  torrent. 
These  three,  unfortunately  making  their  appearance  on  the  plateau  at  a  time  when  a  recent 
depredation  was  colorably  chargeable  upon  them,  were  killed  by  Indians,  their  story  of  having 
come  thus  far  down  the  river  in  boats  being  wholly  discredited  by  their  captors.  Powell's 
journal  of  the  trip  is  a  fascinating  tale,  written  in  a  compact  and  modest  style,  which,  in  spite 
of  its  reticence,  tells  an  epic  story  of  purest  heroism.  It  definitely  established  the  scene  of 
his  exploration  as  the  most  wonderful  geological  and  spectacular  phenomenon  known  to  man- 
kind, and  justified  the  name  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  it  —  THE  GRAND  CANON  — 
sublimest  of  gorges;  Titan  of  chasms.  Many  scientists  have  since  visited  it,  and,  in  the 
aggregate,  a  considerable  number  of  unprofessional  lovers  of  nature;  but  until  recently  no 
definite  appeal  was  made  to  the  general  sightseer,  and  the  world's  most  stupendous  panorama 
has  been  known  principally  through  report,  by  reason  of  the  discomforts  and  difficulties  of 
the  trip,  which  deterred  all  except  the  most  indefatigable  enthusiasts.  Even  its  geographical 
location  has  been  the  subject  of  widespread  misapprehension.  As  stated  by  Captain  Button, 
in  his  "  Tertiary  History  of  the  Grand  Canon  District,"  its  title  has  been  pirated  for  application 
to  relatively  insignificant  caiions  in  distant  parts  of  the  country,  and  thousands  of  tourists 
have  been  led  to  believe  that  they  were  viewing  the  Grand  Caiion  when,  in  fact,  they  looked 
upon  a  totally  different  scene,  between  which  and  the  real  Grand  Canon  there  is  no  more 
comparison  "  than  there  is  between  the  Alleghanies  or  Trosachs  and  the  Himalayas  " 

There  is  but  one  Grand  Canon.    Nowhere  in  human  experience  can  its  like  be  found. 


II. 

IT  lies  wholly  in  the  northern  part  of  Arizona.     It  is  accessible  from  the  north  only  at  the 
cost  of  weeks  of  arduous  travel,  necessitating  a  special   expedition  with   camp  outfit  and 
pack  animals.    On  the  south  it  is  easily  reached  in  a  single  day's  journey  by  stage  from 
the  town  of  Flagstaff,  an  important  station  on  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Railroad,  which  is  a 
division  of  the  Santa   Fe  Route.    There   is   no   other  railroad  within  a  distance  of  several 
hundred  miles. 

In  May,  1892.  a  tri-weekly  stage  line  was  permanently  established  between  Flagstaff  and 
the  Grand  Canon.  The  entire  distance  is  sixty-five  miles,  and  it  is  covered  in  less  than  twelve 
hours,  by  the  aid  of  three  relays.  The  route  is  nearly  level,  traversing  the  platform  district 
which,  taking  name  from  the  river,  is  known  as  the  Colorado  Plateau.  The  excellence  of  the 


roadway  needs  no  other  testimony  than  the  fact  that  the  journey  consumes  PO  little  time.  For 
long  stretches  it  is  as  hard  and  smooth  as  a  boulevard.  The  stage  leaves  Flagstaff  in  the  morn- 
ing, reaches  a  comfortable  dinner  station  at  noon,  and  deposits  its  passengers  at  a  permanent 
camp  on  the  rim  of  the  most  impressive  portion  of  the  Canon  before  nightfall.  The  Canon 
camp  is  a  tiny  tent  village,  picturesquely  located  in  a  park  of  tall  pines.  Each  tent  is  floored, 
and  furnished  with  bed,  table,  chairs  and  other  articles  of  comfort.  Excellent  meals  are  regularly 
provided.  Pending  the  construction  of  more  pretentious  accommodations,  which  are  in  prospect, 
no  more  satisfactory  provision  for  the  needs  of  the  visitor  could  be  desired.  Elevated  more  than 
7,000  feet  above  sea-level,  the  air  is  pure  and  exhilarating,  and  the  health-giving  climate  that  is 
characteristic  of  the  region,  together  with  the  charming  environment  of  the  pine  forest,  would 
make  a  week's  stay  at  the  Canon  camp  a  delightful  and  profitable  outing,  even  were  there  no 
Grand  Canon  at  hand. 

The  stage  returns  from  the  Canon  to  Flagstaff  every  other  day,  enabling  tourists  who  are 
pressed  for  time,  or  transcontinental  travelers  on  business  intent,  to  obtain  a  view  of  this  incom- 


MIDWAY   STATION    AT  CEDAR    RANCH. 


parable  spectacle  at  the  cost  of  little  delay.  If  it  is  necessary  to  be  satisfied  with  a  few  hours' 
insi>ection,  one  may  return  the  following  morning  after  arrival,  and  thus  see  the  Grand  Canon  in 
but  two  days'  absence  from  Flagstaff.  While  so  superficial  a  view  will  reveal  only  a  fraction  of  its 
protean  splendors,  it  will  prove  an  everlasting  memory. 


III. 

THE  journey  to  the  Canon  is  greatly  diversified  in  interest.    Plunging  at  once  into  one  of  the 
parks  that  are  peculiar  to  Arizona — forests  of  pine  free  from  undergrowth,  streaked  with  sun- 
light and  seductively  carpeted  with  grass — for  many  miles  the  road  closely  skirts  the  splendid 
San  Francisco  peaks,  emerging  into  open  stretches  where  prairie  dogs  abound,  again  winding 
through  rocky  defiles,  on  past  volcanic  vent-holes,  in   whose  subterranean  recesses  the  Cave 
Dwellers  made  their  primitive  home  t-nd  where  the  hill  slopes  are  thickly  strewn  with  fragments 
of  pottery  ;  past  bare  mountains  of  black  cinder  striped  with  red  slag;  over  broad  ranges  when1 
sheep  and  cattle  browse  and  the  tents  of  the  herders  gleam  from  the  hillside  where  the  infrequent 


spring  pours  out  its  flow ;  threading  the  notches  of  slopes  regularly  set  with  cedar  and  pinon ; 
across  gentle  divides  from  whose  summits  the  faint  rosy  hues  of  the  Painted  Desert  may  be  seen 
in  the  northeast,  and  in  the  north  the  black  jagged  lines  of  mountain  ranges  indefinitely  far 
away ;  then  once  more  into  the  pines  and  down  a  short,  steep  descent  to  the  terminus  in  a  roman- 
tic glen  near  John  Hance's  cabin,  some  fifteen  miles  west  of  the  confluence  of  the  Little  Colorado 
with  the  main  river. 

In  all  the  journey  nothing  has  been  encountered  that  could  prepare  the  mind  for  trans- 
cendent scenery,  save  that  in  the  last  half  mile  two  or  three  glimpses  of  what  were  guessed  to  be 
pinkish  cliffs  far  to  right  and  left  were  shadowed  faintly  through  the  trees.  And  certainly  there 
is  nothing  that  portends  the  heroic  in  the  sylvan  scene  where  at  last  the  traveler  quits  the  stage. 
Small  herbage  and  flowers  of  every  hue  grow  at  the  foot  of  the  pines,  among  pretty  rock  frag- 
ments of  variegated  color.  Save  for  a  single  crag,  whose  gray  crest  barely  tops  the  northward 
slope  of  the  glen,  a  hundred  yards  away,  there  is  no  hint  of  any  presence  foreign  to  the  peaceful 
air  of  a  woodland  glade,  denizened  by  birds  and  squirrels,  innocent  even  of  the  rumor  of  such  a 
thing  as  the  Grand  Canon.  The  visitor,  smitten  with  a  sudden  fear  of  bitter  disappointment  in 
store,  strides  eagerly  up  the  slope  to  put  the  vaunted  Canon  to  the  test.  Without  an  instant's 
warning  he  finds  himself  upon  the  verge  of  an  unearthly  spectacle  that  stretches  beneath  his  feet 
to  the  far  horizon.  Stolid  is  he,  indeed,  if  he  can  front  that  awful  scene  without  quaking  knee  or 
tremulous  breath. 

IV. 

AN  inferno,  swathed  in  soft  celestial  fires;  a  whole  chaotic  under-world,  just  emptied  of 
primeval  floods  and  waiting  for  a  new  creative  word  ;  a  boding,  terrible  thing,  unflinchingly 

real,  yet  spectral  as  a  dream,  eluding  all  sense  of  perspective  or  dimension,  outstretching  the 
faculty  of  measurement,  overlapping  the  confines  of  definite  apprehension.  The  beholder  is  at 
first  unimpressed  by  any  detail ;  he  is  overwhelmed  by  the  ensemble  of  a  stupendous  panorama,  a 
thousand  square  miles  in  extent,  that  lies  wholly  beneath  the  eye,  as  if  he  stood  upon  a  mountain 
peak  instead  of  the  level  brink  of  a  fearful  chasm  in  the  plateau  whose  opposite  shore  is  thirteen 
miles  away.  A  labyrinth  of  huge  architectural  forms,  endlessly  varied  in  design,  fretted  wTith 
ornamental  devices,  festooned  with  lace-like  webs  formed  of  talus  from  the  upper  cliffs  and 
painted  with  every  color  known  to  the  palette  in  pure  transparent  tones  of  marvelous  delicacy. 
Never  was  picture  more  harmonious,  never  flower  more  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  flashes  instant 
communication  of  all  that  architecture  and  painting  and  music  for  a  thousand  years  have  grop- 
ingly striven  to  express.  It  is  the  soul  of  Michael  Angelo  and  of  Beethoven. 

A  canon,  truly,  but  not  after  the  accepted  type.  An  intricate  system  of  canons,  rather,  all 
subordinate  to  the  river  channel  in  the  midst,  which  in  its  turn  is  subordinate  to  the  total 
effect.  That  river  channel,  the  profoundest  depth,  and  actually  more  than  six  thousand  feet 
below  the  point  of  view,  is  in  seeming  a  rather  insignificant  trench,  attracting  the  eye  more  by 
reason  of  its  somber  tone  and  mysterious  suggestion  than  by  any  appreciable  characteristic  of  a 
chasm.  It  is  nearly  five  miles  distant  in  a  straight  line,  and  its  uppermost  rims  are  3,000  feet 
beneath  the  observer,  whose  measuring  capacity  is  entirely  inadequate  to  the  demand  made  by 
such  magnitudes.  One  cannot  believe  the  distance  to  be  more  than  a  mile  as  the  crow  flies, 
before  descending  the  wall  or  attempting  some  other  form  of  inchworm  measurement.  Mere 
brain  knowledge  counts  for  little  against  the  illusion  under  which  the  organ  of  vision  is  doomed 
here  to  labor.  That  red  cliff  upon  your  right,  fading  through  brown,  yellow  and  gray  to  white 
at  the  top,  is  tall;r  than  the  Washington  monument.  The  Auditorium  in  Chicago  would  not 
cover  one-half  its  perpendicular  span.  Yet  it  does  not  greatly  impress  you.  You  idly  toss  a 

10 


HEAD  OF  THE  HANCE  TRAIL. 


pebble  toward  it,  and  are  surprised  that  your  aim  fell  short.    Sub- 
sequently you  learn  that  the  cliff  is  a  good  half  mile  distant.     If 
you  care  for  an  abiding  sense  of  its  true  proportions,  go  over  to  the 
trail  that  begins  beside  its  summit  and  clamber  down  to  its  base  and 
back.     You  will  return  some  hours  later,  and  with  a  decide  1  respect 
for  a  small  Grand  Canon  cliff.    Relatively  it  is  insignificant;  in  that 
sense  your  first  estimate  was  correct.     Were  Vulcan  to  cast  it  bodily 
into  the  chasm  directly  beneath  your  feet,  it  would  pass  for  a  bowlder, 
if  indeed  it  wrre  discoverable  to  the  unaided  eye.    Yet  the  imme- 
diate chasm  itself  is  only  the 
first  step  of  a  long  terrace  that 
Iwids  down   to  the   innermost 
gorge  and   the  river.     Roll  a 
heavy  stone  to  the  rim  and  let 
it  go.    It  falls  sheer  the  height 
of  a  church  or  an  Eiffel  Tower, 
according  to  your  position,  and 
explodes  like  a  bomb  on  a  pro- 
jecting ledge.     If,  happily,  anv 
considerable  fragments  remain, 
they  bound  onward  like  elastic 
balls,  leaping  in  wild  parabola 
from  point  to  point,  snapping 
trees  like  straws,  bursting,  crash- 
ing, thundering  down  until  they 
make  a  last  plunge  over  the 
brink  of  a  void,  and  then  there 
comes    languidly    up    the   cliff 
sides  a  faint,  distant  roar,  and 
your  bowlder  that    had   with- 
stood the  buffets  of  centuries  lies 
scattered  as  wide  as  Wycliffe's 
ashes,  although  the  final  frag- 
ment has  lodged  only  a  little 
way,  eo    to   speak,  below   the 
rim.    Such  performances  are  fre- 
quently given  in  these  amphi- 
theaters without  human  aid,  by 
the  mere  undermining  of  the 
rain,  or  perhaps  it  is  here  that 

Sisyphus  rehearses  his  unending  task.     Often  in  the  silence  of  night  a  tremendous   fragment 
may  be  heard  crashing  from  terrace  to  terrace  like  shocks  of  thunder  peal. 

The  spectacle  is  so  symmetrical,  and  so  completely  excludes  the  outside  world  and  its 
accustomed  standards,  it  is  with  difficulty  one  can  act  mire  any  notion  of  its  immensity.  Were 
it  half  as  deep,  half  as  broad,  it  would  be  no  less  bewildering,  so  utterly  dues  it  luillle  human 
grasp.  Something  may  be  gleaned  from  the  account  given  by  geologists.  What  is  known  t<> 
them  as  the  Grand  Cafion  District  lies  principally  in  northwestern  Arizona,  its  length  from 
northwest  to  southeast  in  a  straight  line  being  about  180  miles,  its  width  12o  miles,  and  its  total 

18 


THE    STAGE    TERMINUS. 


area  some  15,000  square  miles.  Its  northerly  beginning,  at  the  high  plateaus  in  southern  Utah, 
is  a  series  of  terraces,  many  miles  broad,  dropping  like  a  stairway  step  by  step  to  successively 
lower  geological  formations,  until  in  Arizona  the  platform  is  reached  which  borders  the  real 
chasm  and  extends  southward  beyond  far  into  the  central  part  of  that  territory.  It  is  the  theory 
of  geologists  that  10,000  feet  of  strata  have  been  swept  by  erosion  from  the  surface  of  this 
entire  platform,  whose  present  uppermost  formation  is  the  Carboniferous  ;  the  deduction  being 
based  upon  the  fact  that  the  missing  Permian,  Mesozoic  and  Tertiary  formations,  which  belong 
above  this  Carboniferous  in  the  series,  are  found  in  their  place  at  the  beginning  of  the  northern 
terraces  referred  to.  The  theory  is  fortified  by  many  evidences  supplied  by  examination  of  the 
district,  where,  more  than  anywhere  else,  mother  earth  has  laid  bare  the  secrets  of  her  girl- 
hood. The  climax  in  this  extraordinary  example  of  erosion  is,  of  course,  the  chasm  of  the  Grand 
Canon  proper,  which,  were  the  missing  strata  restored  to  the  adjacent  plateau,  would  be  16,000 
feet  deep.  The  layman  is  apt  to  stigmatize  such  an  assertion  as  a  vagary  of  theorists,  and  until 
the  argument  has  been  heard  it  does  seem  incredible  that  water  should  have  carved  such  a 
trough  in  solid  rock.  Briefly,  the  whole  region  appears  to  have  been  repeatedly  lifted  and 
submerged,  both  under  the  ocean  and  under  a  fresh-water  sea,  and  during  the  period  of  the  last 
upheaval  the  river  cut  its  gorge.  Existing  as  the  drainage  system  of  a  vast  territory,  it  had  the 
right  of  way,  and  as  the  plateau  deliberately  rose  before  the  pressure  of  the  internal  forces, 
slowly,  as  grind  the  mills  of  the  gods,  through  a  period  not  to  be  measured  by  years,  the  river 
kept  its  bed  worn  down  to  the  level  of  erosion ;  sawed  its  channel  free,  as  the  saw  cuts  the  log 
that  is  thrust  against  it.  Tributaries,  traceable  now  only  by  dry  lateral  gorges,  and  the  gradual 
but  no  less  effective  process  of  weathering,  did  the  rest. 

Beginning  on  the  plateau  level  on  the  Canon's  brink,  the  order  of  the  rock  formations  above 
the  river,  according  to  Captain  Button,  is  as  follows  : 

1.  Cherty  limestone,  240  feet.  6.  Red  Wall  limestone,  1,500  feet. 

2.  Upper  Aubrey  limestone,  320  feet.  7.  Lower  Carboniferous  sandstone,  550  feet. 

3.  Cross-bedded  sandstone,  380  feet.  8.  Quartzite  base  of  Carboniferous,  180  feet 

4.  Lower  Aubrey  sandstone,  950  feet.  9.   Archaean. 

5.  Upper  Red  Wall  sandstone,  400  feet. 

The  total  vertical  depth  is  more  than  a  mile. 


V. 

A  PRACTICABLE  way  of  descending  the  Canon  wall  is  known  to  exist  upon  either  side  in  but 
two  or  three  places  along  its  entire  length.  One  of  these,  the  Hance  trail,  begins  within  half 

a  mile  of  the  Canon  camp,  which  point  thus  offers  the  remarkable  combination  of  a  magnifi- 
cent view  from  the  rim  and  a  feasible  trail  to  the  river.  Only  by  descending  into  the  Canon  can 
one  arrive  at  anything  like  a  comprehension  of  its  proportions,  and  the  descent  cannot  be  too 
urgently  commended  to  every  visitor  who  possesses  a  stout  heart  and  good  lungs.  It  is  destined 
to  become  more  famous  than  the  ascent  of  the  Alps. 

For  the  first  two  miles  the  Hance  trail  is  a  sort  of  Jacob's  ladder,  zigzagging  at  an  unrelenting 
pitch  down  a  steep  and  nearly  uniform  decline  caused  by  a  sliding  geological  fault  and  centuries 
of  frost  and  rain.  It  is  safe  and  practicable  for  pack  animals  and  for  sound  pedestrians  ;  ladies 
have  occasionally  made  the  descent,  but  at  present  it  necessitates  too  hurried  a  scramble  in  places 
to  attempt  it  confidently  on  horseback.  At  the  end  of  two  miles  a  comparatively  gentle  slope  is 
reached,  known  as  the  First  Level,  some  2,500  feet  below  the  rim  ;  that  is  to  say  —  for  such  figures 
have  to  be  impressed  objectively  upon  the  mind —  five  times  the  height  of  St.  Peter's,  the  Pyramid 

14 


LOOKING    UP   THE    RANGE    TRAIL. 


of  Cheops,  or  the  Strasburg  Cathedral ;  eight  times  the  height  of  the  Bartholdi  Statue  of  Liberty; 
eleven  times  the  height  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  Looking  back  from  this  level  the  huge  pic- 
turesque towers  that  border  the  rim  shrink  to  pigmies  and  seem  to  crown  a  perpendicular  wall, 
unattainably  far  in  the  sky.  Yet  less  than  one-half  the  descent  has  been  made,  and  less  than 
one-third  the  entire  distance  of  the  trail  to  the  river  accomplished.  For  more  than  three  miles 
now  riding  on  horse  or  mule  back  is  entirely  practicable.  Hance's  Rock  Cabin  lies  only  a  short 
distance  ahead,  where  dinner  and  rest  are  to  be  had  under  the  shade  of  cotton  woods  by  the  side 
of  a  living  spring.  Further  on,  the  trail  continues  down  a  widening  gorge  plentifully  set  with 
shrubs  and  spangled,  in  season,  with  the  bloom  of  the  yucca,  prickly  pear,  primrose,  marigold  and 
a  score  of  unfamiliar  showy  flowers,  white,  blue,  red  and  yellow,  surprisingly  fresh  and  vigorous 
above  a  dry,  red,  stony  soil.  Small  lizards  dart  across  the  path  —  brown  lizards,  spotted  lizards, 
gtriped  lizards,  lizards  with  tails  of  peacock  blue  —  and  an  occasional  horned  toad  scrambles  out  of 

the  way.  No  other  reptile 
is  encountered.  Soon  the 
course  of  a  clear  rivulet  is 
reached,  whose  windings 
are  followed  to  the  end. 
The  red  wall  limestone 
gives  place  to  dark-brown 
sandstone,  whose  perfectly 
horizontal  strata  rapidly 
rise  above  the  head  to  prove 
the  rate  of  descent  along 


AT  THE    ROCK   CABIN. 


the  apparently  gentle  de- 
cline. Overshadowed  by 
this  sandstone  of  chocolate 
hue  the  way  grows  gloomy 
and  foreboding,  and  the 
gorge  narrows  greatly.  The 
traveler  stops  a  moment 
beneath  a  slanting  cliff  500 
feet  high,  where  there  is 
an  Indian  grave  and  pot- 
tery scattered  about.  A 
gigantic  niche  has  been 

worn  in  the  face  of  this  cavernous  cliff,  which,  in  recognition  of  its  fancied  Egyptian  character, 
was  named  the  Temple  of  Sett  by  the  celebrated  painter,  Thomas  Moran.  A  little  beyond 
this  temple  it  becomes  necessary  to  abandon  the  animals.  The  river  is  still  a  mile  and  a  half 
distant.  The  way  narrows  now  to  a  mere  notch,  where  two  wagons  could  barely  pass,  and  the 
granite  begins  to  tower  gloomily  overhead,  for  we  have  dropped  below  the  sandstone  and  have 
entered  the  arcluean — a  frowning  black  rock,  streaked,  veined  and  swirled  with  vivid  red 
and  white,  smoothed  and  polished  by  the  rivulet  and  beautiful  as  a  mosaic.  Obstacles  are 
encountered  in  the  form  of  steep  interposing  crags,  past  which  the  brook  has  found  a  way,  but 
over  which  the  pedestrian  must  clamber.  After  these  lesser  difliculties  come  sheer  descents,  which 
at  present  are  passed  by  tiie  aid  of  ropes.  The  last  considerable  drop  is  a  forty  foot  bit  by  the 
side  of  a  pretty  cascade,  where  there  are  just  enough  irregularities  in  the  wall  to  give  toe-hold. 
The  narrowed  cleft  becomes  exceedingly  wayward  in  its  course,  turning  abruptly  to  right  and  left, 
and  v/orking  down  into  twilight  depths.  It  is  very  still.  At  every  turn  one  looks  to  see  the 


embouchure  upon  the  river,  anticipating  the  sudden  shock  of  the  unintercepted  roar  of  waters. 
When  at  last  this  is  reached,  over  a  final  downward  clamber,  the  traveler  stands  upon  a  sandy  rift 
confronted  by  nearly  vertical  walls  many  hundred  feet  high,  at  whose  base  a  black  torrent 
pitches  in  a  giddying  onward  slide  that  gives  him  momentarily  the  sensation  of  slipping  into  an 


With  so  little  labor  may  one  come  to  the  Colorado  River  in  the  heart  of  its  most  tremendous 
channel,  and  gaze  upon  a  sight  that  heretofore  has  had  fewer  witnesses  than  have  the  wilds  of 
Africa.  Dwarfed  by  such  prodigious  mountain  shores,  which  rise  immediately  from  the  water  at 
an  angle  that  would  deny  footing  to  a  mountain  sheep,  it  is  not  easy  to  estimate  confidently  the 
width  and  volume  of  the  river.  Choked  by  the  stubborn  granite  at  this  point,  its  width  is  prob- 
ably between  two  hundred  and  fifty  and  three  hundred  feet,  its  velocity  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  and 
its  volume  and  turmoil  eqxial  to  the  Whirlpool  Rapids  of  Niagara.  Its  rise  in  time  of  heavy  rain 
is  rapid  and  appalling,  for  the  walls  shed  almost  instantly  all  the  water  that  falls  upon  them. 
Drift  is  lodged  in  the  crevices  thirty  feet  overhead.  For  only  a  few  hundred  yards  is  the  tortuous 
stream  visible,  but  its  effect  upon  the  senses  is  perhaps  the  greater  for  that  reason.  Issuing  as 
from  a  mountain  side,  it  slides  with  oily  smoothness  for  a  space  and  suddenly  breaks  into  violent 
waves  that  comb  back  against  the  current  and  shoot  unexpectedly  here  and  there,  while  the 
volume  sways  tide-like  from  side  to  side,  and  long  curling  breakers  form  and  hold  their  outline 
lengthwise  of  the  shore,  despite  the  seemingly  irresistible  velocity  of  the  water.  The  river  is 
laden  with  drift,  huge  tree  trunks,  which  it  tosses  like  chips  in  its  terrible  play. 

Standing  upon  that  shore  one  can  barely  credit  Powell's  achievement,  in  spite  of  its  absolute 
authenticity.  Never  was  a  more  magnificent  self-reliance  displayed  than  by  the  man  who  not 
only  undertook  the  passage  of  Colorado  River  but  won  his  way.  And  after  viewing  a  fraction  of 
the  scene  at  close  range,  one  cannot  hold  it  to  the  discredit  of  three  of  his  companions  that  they 
abandoned  the  undertaking  not  far  below  this  point.  The  fact  that  those  who  persisted  got 
through  alive  is  hardly  more  astonishing  than  that  any  should  have  had  the  hardihood  to  persist. 
For  it  could  not  have  been  alone  the  privation,  the  infinite  toil,  the  unending  suspense  in  constant 
menace  of  death  that  assaulted  their  courage ;  these  they  had  looked  for ;  it  was  rather  the 
unlifted  gloom  of  those  tartarean  depths,  the  unspeakable  horrors  of  an  endless  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  de_th,  in  which  every  step  was  irrevocable. 

Returning  to  the  spot  where  the  animals  were  abandoned,  camp  is  made  for  the  night.  Next 
morning  the  way  is  retraced.  Not  the  most  fervid  pictures  of  a  poet's  fancy  could  transcend  the 
glories  then  revealed  in  the  depths  of  the  Canon ;  inky  shadows,  pale  gildings  of  lofty  spires, 
golden  splendors  of  sun  beating  full  on  facades  of  red  and  yellow,  obscurations  of  distant  peaks 
by  veils  of  transient  shower,  glimpses  of  white  towers  half  drowned  in  purple  haze,  suffusions  of 
rosy  light  blended  in  reflection  from  a  hundred  tinted  walls.  Caught  up  to  exalted  emotional 
heights  the  beholder  becomes  unmindful  of  fatigue.  He  mounts  on  wings.  He  drives  the  chariot 
of  the  sun. 

VI. 

HAVING  returned  to  the  plateau,  it  will  be  found  that  the  descent  into  the  Canon  has 
bestowed  a  sense  of  intimacy  that  almost  amounts  to  a  mental  grasp  of  the  scene.    The 
imposing  Temple  of  Sett  will  be  recognized  after  close  scrutiny  in  a  just  determinable  pen- 
stroke  of  detail.     A  memorably  gorgeous  Olympian  height  that  dominated  everything  for  the 
space  of  a  mile  will  be  seen  to  be  nothing  more  than  the  perpendicular  front  of  the  Red  Wall 
limestone,  topped  up  and  away  by  retreating  summits,  hidden  from  below,  that  reduce  it  now 
to  the  unimportance  of  a  mere  girdle.    The  verdant,  flowered  expanse  of  notable  ruggedness 

18 


IN    THE    GRANITE. 


below  the  Rock  Cabin  will  bo 
discoverable  in  a  small  smooth 
patch  of  marly  hue.  The  ter- 
rific deeps  that  part  the  walls  of 
hundreds  of  castles  and  turrets 
of  mountainous  bulk  will  be 
apprehended  mainly  through 
the  memory  of  upward  looks 
from  the  bottom,  while  towers 
and  obstructions  and  yawning 
fissures  that  were  deemed  events 
of  the  trail  will  be  wholly  indis- 
tinguishable, although  they  are 
known  to  lie  somewhere  flat 
beneath  the  eye.  The  compara- 
tive insignificance  of  what  are 
termed  grand  sights  in  other 
parts  of  the  world  is  now  clearly 
revealed.  Twenty  Yosemites 
might  lie  unperceived  anywhere 
below.  Niagara,  that  Mecca  of 
marvel  seekers,  would  not  here 
possess  the  dignity  of  a  trout 
stream.  Your  companion,  stand- 
ing at  a  short  distance  on  the 
verge,  is  an  insect  to  the  eye. 

Still  such  particulars  cannot  long  hold  the 
attention,  for  the  panorama  is  the  real  over- 
mastering charm.    It  is  never  twice  the  same.     Althougl 
you  think  you  have  spelt  out  every  temple  and  peak  and 
escarpment,  as  the  angle  of  sunlight  changes  there  begins 
a  ghostly  advance  of  colossal  forms  from  the  farther  side, 
and  what  you  had  taken  to  be  the  ultimate  wall  is  seen 
to  be  made  up  of  still  other  isolated  sculptures,  revealed  now  for 
the  first  time  by  silhouetting  shadows.    The  scene  incessantly 
changes,  flushing  and  fading,  advancing  into  crystalline  clearness, 
retiring  into  slumberous  haze.     Should  it  chance  to  have  rained  heavily 
in  the  night,  next  morning  the  Canon  is  completely  filled  with  fog.     As 
the  sun  mounts,  the  curtain  of  mist  suddenly  breaks  into  cloud  fleeces, 
and  while  you  gaze  these  fleeces  rise  and  dissipate,  leaving  the  Canon 

bare.  At  once  around  the  bases  of  the  lowest  cliffs  white  pull's  begin  to  appear,  creating  a 
scene  of  unparalleled  beauty  as  their  dazzling  cumuli  swell  and  rise  and  their  number  multi- 
plies, until  once  more  they  overflow  the  rim,  and  it  is  as  if  you  stood  upon  some  land's  end 
looking  down  upon  a  formless  v«.id.  Then  quickly  comes  the  complete  dissipation,  and  asain 
the  marshalling  in  the  depths,  the  upward  advance,  the  total  suffusion  and  the  speedy  vanishing, 
repeated  over  and  over  until  the  warm  walls  have  expelled  their  saturation. 

Long  may  the  visitor  loiter  upon  the  rim,  powerless  to  shake  loose   from  the  charm,  tire- 
lessly intent  upon  the  silent  transformations  until  the  sun  is  low  in  the  west.     Then  the  Canon 

21 


, 


ON    THE    TRAIL. 


sinks  into  mysterious  purple  shadow,  the  far  Shinumo  Altar  is  tipped  with  a  golden  ray,  and 
against  a  leaden  horizon  the  long  line  of  the  Echo  Cliffs  reflects  a  soft  brilliance  of  indescribable 
beauty,  a  light  that,  elsewhere,  surely  never  was  on  sea  or  land.  Then  darkness  falls,  and 
should  there  be  a  moon,  the  scene  in  part  revives  in  silver  light,  a  thousand  spectral  forms 
projected  from  inscrutable  gloom ;  dreams  of  mountains,  as  in  their  sleep  they  brood  on  things 
eternal. 

NOTE. — Improvements  of  the  Hance  trail  are  now  in  rapid  progress,  with  the  object  of  enabling  visitors  to  make 
the  entire  descent  to  the  river  on  horseback,  and  another  trail,  three  miles  west  of  Hance's,  gives  promise  of  a 
similar  exemption  from  the  fatigues  which  hitherto  have  attended  the  undertaking. 


A  GRAND   CANON    CAMPFIRE. 


CLIFF    DWELLINGS. 


At  several  points  upon 
the  rim  of  the  Grand  Canon, 
both  east  and  west  of  the 
stage  terminus,  the  razed 
walls  of  ancient  stone  dwell- 
ings may  be  seen.  They 
are  situated  upon  the  verge 
of  the  precipice,  in  one  in- 
stance crowning  an  out- 
standing tower  that  is  con- 
nected with  the  main  wall 
by  only  a  narrow  saddle, 
and  protected  on  every 
other  hand  by  the  per- 
pendicular depths  of  the 
Canon.  The  world  does  not 
contain  another  fortress  so 
triumphantly  invulnerable 
to  primitive  warfare,  nor 
a  dwelling-place  that  can 
equal  it  in  sublimity.  It 
will  be  found  upon  one  of 
the  salients  of  Point  Moran. 

Scattered  southward  over  the  plateau,  other  ruins  of  similar 
character  have  been  found.  Perfect  specimens  of  pottery  and  other 
domestic  utensils  have  been  exhumed  in  small  number,  and  the  rich 
and  varied  archaeological  collections  that  have  so  recently  rewarded 
systematic  examination  of  prehistoric  ruins  in  other  parts  of  the 
country,  whose  treasures  were  thought  to  have  been  exhausted, 
would  seem  to  warrant  careful  search  of  this  region,  where  the 
known  ruins  have  been  but  superficially  examined,  and  doubtless 
many  more  await  discovery. 

The  most  famous  group,  and  the  largest  aggregation,  is  found  in 
Walnut  Canon,  eight  miles  southeast  from  Flagstaff.  This  canon  is 

several  hundred  feet  deep  and  some  three  miles  long,  with  steep  terraced  walls  of  limestone. 
Along  the  shelving  terraces,  under  beetling  projections  of  the  strata,  are  scores  of  these  quaint 
abodes.  The  larger  are  divided  into  four  or  five  compartments  by  cemented  walls,  many  parts  of 
which  are  still  intact.  It  is  believed  that  these  ancient  people  customarily  dwelt  upon  the  plateau 
above,  retiring  to  their  fortifications  when  attacked  by  an  enemy. 


28 


CAVE     DWELLINGS. 

Nine  miles  from  Flagstaff,  and  only  half  a  mile  from  the  stage  road  to  the  Grand 
Canon,  these  remarkable  ruins  are  to  be  seen,  upon  the  summit  and  farther  side  of  an  extinct 
crater  whose  slopes  are  buried  deep  in  black  and  red  gravel-like  cinder.  The  Caves,  so-called, 
were  the  vent  holes  of  the  volcano  in  the  time  of  the  eruptions  of  lava  and  ashes  that  have  so 
plentifully  covered  the  region  for  many  miles  about  —  countless  ragged  caverns  opening  directly 
under  foot  and  leading  by  murky  windings  to  unknown  deeps  in  the  earth's  crust.  Many  are 
simple  pot-holes  a  few  yards  in  depth,  their  subterranean  leads  choked  up  and  concealed.  Others 
yawn  black,  like  burrows  of  huge  beasts  of  prey.  In  many  instances  they  are  surrounded  by 
loose  stone  walls,  parts  of  which  are  standing  just  as  when  their  singular  inhabitants  peered 
through  their  crevices  at  an  approaching  foe.  Broken  pottery  abounds,  scattered  in  small  frag- 
ments like  a  talus  to  the  very  foot  of  the  hill.  The  character  of  the  pottery  ia  similar  to  that 
found  in  the  Cliff  Dwellings,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  Cave  Dwellers  and  the  Cliff  Dwellers 
were  the  same  people.  The  coarser  vessels  are  simply  glazed,  or  roughly  corrugated  ;  the  smaller 
ones  are  decorated  by  regular  indentations,  in  imitation  of  the  scales  of  the  rattlesnake,  or  painted 
in  black  and  white  geometrical  designs. 

Inferentially,  these  mysterious  people,  like  the  Cliff  Dwellers,  were  of  the  same  stock  as  the 
Pueblo  Indians  of  our  day.  How  long  ago  they  dwelt  here  cannot  be  surmised,  save  roughly  from 
the  appearance  of  extreme  age  that  characterizes  many  of  the  ruins,  and  the  absence  of  native 
traditions  concerning  them.  Their  age  has  been  estimated  at  from  six  to  eight  hundred  years. 


CAVE    DWELLING,    NEAR    FLAGSTAFF. 


2G 


CLIFF   DWELLINGS,    NEAR    FL^ 


SAN     FRANCISCO     PEAKS. 

These  magnificent  peaks,  visible  from  every  part  of  the  country  within  a  radius  of  a  hundred 
miles,  lie  just  north  of  Flagstaff.  They  are  four  in  number,  but  form  one  mountain.  From  Flag- 
staff a  road  has  recently  been  constructed  to  one  of  the  peaks,  Mt.  Humphrey,  whose  summit  is 
12,750  feet  above  sea-level.  It  is  a  good  mountain  road,  and  the  entire  distance  from  Flagstaff  is 
only  about  ten  miles.  The  trip  to  the  summit  and  back  is  easily  made  in  one  day. 

Mr.  A.  Doyle,  of  Flagstaff,  is  the  owner  of  the  trail  to  Humphrey's  Peak,  and  acts  as  guide 
when  desired.  He  provides  the  necessary  equipment,  including  hia  own  services,  at  a  reasonable 
cost.  Independent  arrangements  may  be  made  if  desired,  but  in  that  case  toll  is  charged  for  use 
of  the  trail. 

The  summit  of  Mt.  Humphrey  affords  one  of  the  noblest  of  mountain  views,  the  panorama 
including  the  north  wall  of  the  Grand  Canon,  the  Painted  Desert,  the  Moqui  villages,  the  Super- 
stition Mountains  near  Phoenix,  many  lakes,  and  far  glimpses  over  a  wide  circle. 


COST    OF    A    TRIP    TO    THE    GRAND    CANON,    STAGE 
SCHEDULE,    HOTELS,    ETC. 

The  stage  fare  from  Flagstaff  to  the  Grand  Canon  and  return  is  $20.00.  Stage  tickets  may  be 
purchased  on  arrival  at  Flagstaff,  or  special  railroad  tickets,  bearing  stage  coupon,  may  be 
obtained  by  the  tourist.  In  the  latter  case  a  reduction  is  made  in  the  railroad  fare  from  the 
principal  points  at  which  such  tickets  are  sold. 

The  stage  leaves  Flagstaff  for  the  Grand  Canon  after  breakfast  every  Monday,  Wednesday 
and  Friday  morning,  except  during  the  winter  months,  returning  Tuesday,  Thursday  and  Saturday 
mornings.  The  office  of  E.  S.  Wilcox,  manager  of  the  Grand  Canon  Stage  Line  Company,  is  con- 
veniently situated  on  the  depot  platform,  and  visitors  will  find  it  to  their  advantage  to  apply  to 
him  immediately  upon  arrival  and  secure  stage  accommodations. 

The  price  of  lunch  en  route  is  50  cents,  and  of  meals  at  the  Canon  camp  $1.00  each,  which 
latter  is  also  the  price  of  lodging  in  the  comfortable  tents  provided  at  the  Canon.  The  lunch 
station  en  route  is  Cedar  Ranch,  a  point  midway. 

Camping  outfits,  pack  animals,  saddle  horses,  guides,  rough  clothing,  stout  shoes  and  general 
supplies  can  be  procured  at  the  Canon  camp  by  parties  who  desire  to  descend  the  Hance  Trail  or 
make  excursions  along  the  rim. 

There  are  several  hotels  in  Flagstaff,  and  visitors  to  the  Grand  Canon  who  may  chance  to 
arrive  in  town  between  the  regular  stage  runs,  as  scheduled  above,  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
spending  time  agreeably  in  the  interim.  In  addition  to  the  San  Francisco  Peaks  and  the  Cliff  and 
Cave  Dwellings,  Fisher's  Tanks  and  the  Bottomless  Pits  may  be  reached  by  a  short  and  agreeable 
drive,  and  fifteen  miles  to  the  south,  in  Oak  Creek  Canon,  there  is  really  excellent  trout  fishing. 


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MAP    OF   STAGE    ROUTE. 


Flagstaff  is  situated  on  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Raihoad,  a  division  of  the  through  California 
line  of  the  Santa  Fe  Route. 

Special  tickets  to  the  Grand  Canon,  containing  stage  coupon,  are  sold  at  reduced  rates  hy 
agents  of  the  Santa  Fe  Route,  and  by  agents  of  connecting  lines,  in  the  principal  cities  of  the 
United  States. 

Inquiries  as  to  cost  of  tickets,  time  of  trains,  etc.,  may  be  addressed  to  agents  of  the  Santa  F6 
Route,  or  to  W.  F.  White,  Passenger  Traffic  Manager,  723  Monadnock  Building,  Chicago,  Illinois. 


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